


25 Days of fic-mas

by Johnlock_Baggins



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-04 18:31:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5344265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johnlock_Baggins/pseuds/Johnlock_Baggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>like the bottle says, a collection of ficlets 25 days of fic-mas originally posted to Tumblr<br/>Days 1+2 combined; John and Greg go Christmas shopping for their impossible to buy for boyfriends.<br/>Days 3+4 combined; Mycroft comes home to find his stately home invaded by Christmas<br/>***Day 9 has been moved to fit better in the over all story arc; Mycroft makes a Christmas list<br/>Days 5+6 combined; Mycroft remembers childhood Christmases<br/>Day 7 Greg and John plot to keep their gifts secret<br/>Day 8 John needs to bake cookies but gets distracted<br/>Days 10, 11+15 combined; "Scrooge" has to go to a Christmas party, but at least there's wine<br/>Days 12+13(+15) combined; NSFW Mycroft and Greg skip the party to stay home by the fire<br/>Days 14+16 Trimming the tree and family traditions<br/>Days 17+18 Christmas without you and Mistletoe<br/>Days 19-23 catch up: John and Sherlock's first kiss, and 6 month anniversary<br/>days 24+25 The Big Question for Mycroft and Greg !</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas Shopping and Cocoa

**Author's Note:**

> Update: chapter 6 (day 9 christmas list) became chapter 4 to better fit the overall story arc

John and Greg walked thru the crowded shops the Sunday before Christmas amazed this many people lived in London. The pair had both waited until the last minute to buy gifts because after all what on earth does a person give a Holmes? 

Having discovered that Greg also had not yet found an appropriate gift, he suggested they work together, hoping to gain something from the fact that the inspector had been with his Holmes far longer than John. Greg absolutely detested shopping and so was thankful for companionship while he did so. The very first shop the inspector clapped his eyes on was the jewelers. He sighed audibly and pinched the bridge of his nose hearing Mycroft telling him ‘the universe is not so lazy as to allow coincidences Gregory’ His gut was suddenly filled with butterflies again at the thought that had been going through his lovesick brain for some months now, then he ran to catch up with John who was walking towards the chocolatier. 

The pair enjoyed tasting a variety of delicious fudge before finally deciding on the best flavors and getting some of it for Mrs. Hudson and Molly. In another shop Greg found a wild scarf that made him think of Molly, and a sensible pair of gloves for Donovon. The two men had exploded in giggles in the bath and beauty shop when John suggested they buy women's deodorant for Anderson to keep in his flat. They decided instead on a box of miniature cigars and bottle of bourbon for the forensic officer.

They passed through shop after shop both looking for that certain thing while having no idea what that maybe. The crowds were unbearable, but the Christmas music and decorations was infectious. Greg was thankful the doctor has suggested they do their shopping together, this was much more enjoyable than would have been alone, and their conversations was enough to keep him distracted from accepting a persistent voice in the back of his mind. John found himself humming along to his favorite songs and walking a bit lighter as the feeling of the holiday started to pulse through his veins. Maybe he would get Sherlock a new bow for his violin? No that’s too ordinary. He looked past the music shop to the posh clothing store next door. The mannequins all resembled his boyfriend’s older brother. “Hey Greg” he says tapping the inspector on the shoulder “Maybe we can find what you need in there?” 

The older man laughs when he sees the mannequin replicas of his beloved “Na, I wouldn’t even begin to know what to buy for him in there, I enjoy taking that stuff off of him anyway.” he blushed at his candor and made quick eye contact with John for his reaction, who was smiling and shaking his head “thanks for that visual mate, I needed that” and started to laugh. Greg shrugged and laughed too “Yeah, well you’re welcome! Must be nice to have an image of the sexier brother.” he puffed up his chest and teasingly punched John’s arm. “Psh ! as if those posh suits and freckles could compete with my raven curls and deep sultry voice” They both laughed heartily until a delightful smell stole their attention “Coco?” John asked nodding towards the cafe “Perfect!” Lestrade replied.

As they drank their cocoa and ate the cookies they couldn’t pass up they fell into casual conversation of life with a Holmes. Greg had many stories to share regarding the childhood of their boyfriends, it turns out Mycroft is fond of reminiscing about that time of his life. “I can’t be positive, but I would bet that he misses those days. Misses the way their relationship was when Mycroft was the only person in Sherlock’s world. He has this adorable picture of him on his bedside table dressed up like a pirate with redbeard. The dog even has a bandana on and an eye patch !” Greg chuckled lovingly. 

“Oh!” John exclaimed and a wave of clarity overcame him “Oh my god I know what to get him, well get us I guess because I don’t doubt it will mean a fair about of work for myself, but good grief it’s perfect I can’t believe I didn’t think of it before!” he was suddenly quite glad it was so close to christmas since his gift wouldn’t keep very long. 

“What? What?” the silver haired man asked his blonde companion in great anticipation.

John smirked in a very Sherlockian way and asked “Do you want to come to the animal shelter with me? ” 

The inspector laughed outright and slapped his hand on John’s shoulder “Oh my god! Really? You are right in saying ‘us’ I hardly see Sherlock tending to everything a dog requires” he finished his drink before adding “You’re right though it’s perfect based upon everything Mycroft has ever told me about their childhood dog.” As they left the cafe Greg was pleased his friend had arrived at such a perfect gift for his Holmes. However now that John had, he found himself having to face the truth of the fact that he has known all along what he wanted to get for his beloved. “Well now that you’ve figured that out, I guess it’s time for me to face the fact that there’s been only one thing on my mind for Mycroft, and as nervous as it makes me, I think I am ready to admit that it has to be this.”

John was never good at reading people’s hidden messages, he hated riddles, so he gave his friend a look that said ‘out with it, stop being so cryptic and explain all ready’ 

Lestrade took a very deep steadying breath “Before we go to the shelter, would you come with me back to that jewelry shop ?"


	2. Winter wonderland and Christmas cards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days 3+4 of 25 days of fic-mas
> 
> Mycroft comes home to find his stately home invaded by Christmas

A year, 3 months and 14 days had passed since Gregory Lestrade had moved in with him and Mycroft had become accustomed to the presence of the other man. However opening the door to find the first floor of their estate covered in lengths of garland, twinkling lights, cinnamon scented things, and the bizarre purposeless baubles caught him off guard. Their first Christmas living together he had not been pressured for so much as a wreath, but comfort it seems had given the inspector all the courage he needed. Mycroft had come home from a 3 day international conference to find his home bursting with holiday cheer. Lord help him there was even Christmas music softly pouring out of the houses hidden speaker system. His first thousand thoughts were resoundingly negative as he had wandered around the house getting settled and searching for the Christmas culprit. He was well on his way to divulging some classic Holmes brutal honesty when he found his companion in the sitting room hanging Christmas cards from the doorway. 

Lestrade had a fire going under a mantle thoroughly decorated complete with two stockings. A tree stood in the corner near the patio doors covered in lights and all sorts of dangly things, along with poinsettias and candles on several of their table tops. A huge smile crossed Greg’s face when he saw Mycroft come into the room and he held his arms out for a hug. His boyfriend was covered in glitter from hanging the decorations and absolutely gorgeous in the firelight with the warmth of his festive cheer radiating from him. Wiping some of the glittering specks off the shorter man’s cheek before wrapping his arms around the other’s waist, he pulled his inspector in for a kiss. 

“Welcome home love” Greg said when their kiss broke, then tentatively he added “Do you like the decorations?” he was prepared for the onslaught. 

“It’s lovely, you’re lovely” Mycroft found himself saying, starting to sway along to the music. It seems his mother was right, Christmas made sense when you had someone to share it with. A long abandoned door of his mind opened and the older Holmes was reminded of childhood Christmases with Sherlock and his parents long before he had become the ice man of the british government. As Michael Buble’s ‘Walking in a Winter Wonderland’ came on he pulled his inspector in closer and started to dance with him properly around their festive living room. They circled the room in eachothers arms, Greg nuzzled into the taller man’s chest as the music and their waltz shifted with the song changing to Frank Sinatra’s ‘I’ll be home for Christmas’. When the song changed to Trans-Siberian Orchestra’s Wizards in Winter they paused from the dramatic tempo shift. They stared at each other a second before Greg did a mock headbanging jumping maneuver that made them both laugh at the ridiculousness of it until Mycroft pulled him into a deep kiss to stop the obsurdity. When he was convinced the moment had passed, he released the silver haired man and asked “Seriously though hanging Christmas cards?” He wandered over to where his love had been working and picked up the pile. There was rather more than he was expecting to find. Greg came over picked up the tape and put his hand out for a card. They hummed along to the music and worked through the pile almost all of which were from Greg’s family and coworkers, but then on the bottom was one of those ridiculous photo greetings people send. It was of Sherlock John and Mrs. Hudson and it said Season's greetings from Baker Street. Sherlock had one arm around Mrs. Hudson and the other tightly around John. The look on his brother’s face said the same thing he had been feeling. It seems both of the Holmes boys have found their Christmas spirit.


	3. days 5+6 Ghost Christmas past, naughty and nice.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft remembers some childhood Christmases

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was inspired by consultingbeekeepers [Christmas isn't boring ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/consultingbeekeepers/pseuds/consultingbeekeepers) ghost of Christmas past chapter. Enjoy :)

Mycroft woke up early as usual the Sunday before Christmas with his Gregory asleep at his side. He leaned over placed a gentle kiss on his inspector’s cheek and pulled the covers back up over the other man’s shoulder. Climbing out of the bed he stretched then retrieved his lounge clothes from the various places the inspector had tossed them the night before. The only good thing about his frequent need to leave the country for work was the glorious I missed you, welcome home sex. He smiled at the wave of memories as he headed into the loo, then paused for one more glance at his sleeping prince before heading downstairs. 

He had to admit, the decorations his boyfriend had insisted on deking his halls with made their place feel delightfully cozy. Starting the coffee he tried to remember when he had last felt this way from festive decorations. He had never had so much as a Christmas cookie in his house since leaving for university and finally living on his own. So it must have been at his parents house then. He sighed at the cloudedness of his brain. One of the side effect of all the sleep he gets now is how long it takes him to be able to think straight again. ‘oh you sod, that’s what coffee is for!’ Lestrade had lovingly teased him when he first complained of this, and subsequently bought him this coffee maker as an anniversary gift. 

Taking a mug out of the cabinet, he turned to grab the cream from the fridge and noticed a grocery list held up by the ridiculous goldfish magnet that was Gregory’s favorite. It had been Sherlock’s subtle-but-not-so-subtle way of informing Mycroft that he had uncovered their relationship. He raised an eyebrow at it and shook his head and he realized It had been the first non confectionery gift his little brother gave him in a long time. His sibling was in the forefront of his mind as he sighed and took his first clarifying sip of the delightful liquid. The caffeine worked its miraculous way throughout his nervous system while he made his way to the back of his memories and the Christmases of their youth. 

He remembered being called down to Christmas morning by an excited little brother. Having already been up for hours, the older sibling was propped up in his bed reading for his winter break assignments. He watched a barely five years old Sherlock come running into his room, trip on the edge of the blanket he had wrapped around himself and fall flat to the floor. He laughed lovingly “Are you all right Sherlock?”  
“Hrmpf” he grumbled into the carpet then got up. Undeterred by his lack of coordination he simply adjusted the blanket so it wasn’t under his feet, then finished his enthusiastic dash towards Mycroft’s bed. He attempted to climb up with a small jump, made it halfway and got stuck. Putting his book down Mycroft smiled and bent down to scoop him up. “So what’s so important that you ran in here so quickly you forgot how to walk?” he teased and he placed the smaller boy on his bed.  
“IT’S CHRISTMAS SILLY!” sherlock exploded  
“Shh” Mycroft scolded “It is also too early, our parents are still asleep” It was barely 5am, his mother, he knew would be fine to awake at this time, it’s likely she already was, but their father he knew needed the full 8 hours of a regular person.  
“hrmpf” Sherlock said again with a slight pout. “Sleeping is boring. I want to see if Santa came! If he liked the cookies Mummy and I made him”  
As usual the pleas of his little brother won him over “All right Sherlock, if you promise to be quiet we can go downstairs and you can see if he came and ate your cookies. But NO opening anything until father comes downstairs.” 

They carefully made their way down into the sitting room, and Sherlock was positively bouncing at the wondrous appearance of all the gifts. Mycroft sat on the couch and watched the younger one run back and forth looking at all the packages then finally the empty plate on the table.  
“HE CAME! HE CAME! LOOK MYCROFT LOOK ! HE ATE ALL THE COOKIES !”

“Sshhh! I told you to be quiet !” he reminded the once again shouting child.  
“Why ?! They need to wake up if I’m to wait for Father to open gifts” an adorable little pout was back.  
“If it will satisfy you, you may open my gift while we wait” Mycroft said standing to pull a small package out of the pile. He handed the green box to Sherlock who tore it open immediately. Inside was a small collapsable travel magnifying glass. He opened and closed it several times then peered through the glass at the fabric of the sofa, then the table, then the carpet, then Mycroft’s slipper. It seemed he found the perfect distraction from the pile of gifts. 

Some quiet time passed and the older brother watched the younger crawl around the room examining the close up detail of everything in his path. It wasn’t until he reached the pile of presents that he spoke again. “Oh no! I’ve opened one but you haven’t ! That’s not fair !” he rushed over behind the tree and pulled out a rather poorly wrapped package with far too much tape. He shoved it into his big brothers lap then proceeded to watch him open it through the glass. Mycroft turned the box over and saw the tag said To: Mycroft love Sherlock “Oh thank you!” he said before attempting to get through the many layers of tape. After a lot of tugging he discovered pirate ship model kit and he had to laugh. “Did you pick this out Sherlock?”  
“Yes!” he replied with wide eyes full of pride “Well Mum helped. She said we could build it together!” he jumped up and down a couple times in his excitement. 

“Thank you Sherlock, I love it and we will build it together.” he pulled the smaller boy into a hug and squeezed him tight.  
The sound of a door closing and running water brought Mycroft out of his thoughts. Gregory had gotten in the shower. ‘That’s right, he has plans to meet up with John today’ he remembered while absentmindedly wandering into his study. He walked over to the glass cabinet and peered inside at the handmade pirate ship and smiled. That was it, the last time he felt this way at Christmas time. Then rather unexpectedly he remembered why.

The following year his school load had increased dramatically. He was taking double classes in an attempt to graduate early and had a lot of extra work over the winter break. Christmas eve or not he had stayed up almost all night trying to finish the first of four essays, something his still growing body was not accustomed to yet. Eyes heavy, stomach empty and hand cramping from writing he leaned back in his chair and looked outside. It was snowing. “Wow, a white Christmas how unexpected.” then he looked at the clock on his nightstand. 4:45am. “Happy Christmas Mycroft” and he let himself leave the partially completed essay and crawl into bed. 

It felt like he had just shut his eyes when he was shaken awake by someone jumping on his bed. 

“Wake up ! Wake up Myc !” Sherlock called tugging on his blankets “It’s Christmas Myc ! Santa has been here and he brought snow! Let’s go out and play Myc!” 

“Urgh” Mycroft groaned and looked at the time “Sherlock it’s 6am! I only just went to bed, I’ve been up doing homework …” but his brother cut him off. 

“Get up and get dressed Myc !” still tugging at the blanket he clearly hadn’t heard what his older sibling had said. 

Mycroft tugged back hard and rolled over pushing Sherlock to the foot of the bed “Go back to bed Sherlock!” he snapped. He was just so tired, and he still had so much work to do later that day. 

“Okay the snow can wait, let’s go open santa’s gifts then instead !”

“No Sherlock, later. One more hour please. Go play in your room”

“Come on ! I’m sure Santa got us all the gifts we wanted!” he was back to jumping again.

“For God’s sake Sherlock! SANTA DOESN’T EXIST!” He yelled sitting up so abruptly that Sherlock fell to the floor. Immediately he clapped a hand over his mouth and jumped out of bed to crouch near his brother. ‘oh god what have I done? I can’t believe I just said that!’

“He.. he doesn’t exist ?” his little brother asked in a small voice “But who brings the presents and the snow then ?” he looked like he was going to cry.

Mycroft tried to cover “I was only teasing ! I’m tired and cranky Sherlock please don’t cry” he couldn’t believe he had ruined Santa when his brother was only 6 years old. 

“Why would you say that? That specific thing ?” he rubbed his eyes trying to hold off the tears. “Tell me the truth!” he clenched his small fists. 

“The truth is.. The truth…” Mycroft didn’t know how to fix this. He felt so ashamed. He knew Sherlock would be in here at the crack of dawn on Christmas, and he had been looking forward to another Christmas morning with his little brother. But he had let his school work come first, put work before his brother and he hated himself in this moment.

“So he isn’t real then.” he got to his feet “Why would everyone lie to me all this time ? What kind of stupid joke is this? Look how stupid Sherlock is he believes in Santa ?!” he ran from the room. 

Mycroft felt tears building in his own eyes. He felt so awful. He had never lied to Sherlock and now he was being held responsible for the great lie that is Santa. He sighed heavily and leaned against the bed. His parents were going to kill him. He needed to calm Sherlock down. Going into the next room he crouched down next to his brother “Would you please let me finish? You said you wanted the truth, did you not ?”

Teary eyes looked up at him and nodded. 

“Our parents, and all the other children’s parents, buy lots of gifts, wait until we are asleep then put them under the tree to pretend it was Santa.”

“But the cookies?” 

“Father eats the cookies Sherlock.” he hated this, explaining all this and watching the innocent child inside his brother go out. 

“But why, why do they do that. Is it because they think we are stupid?”

“No, no it’s not that. But I am not sure why. Perhaps because their parents did it to them.”  
Sherlock took a deep breath and wiped his eyes. He sniffled and stood up. “Well let’s go see what mummy and Father got us then” and he waited for his brother to stand up. They went downstairs and their parents joined them. Mycroft watched Sherlock closely the entire day. He was definitely different than last year. The whole feeling of the day was different. He had killed the magic for his little brother and he would never forgive himself for it. 

 

“Good Morning Love” startled by the sound Mycroft turned around to look at Gregory. “What is it ? what’s wrong Myc?” Mycroft realized for the first time there were tears in his eyes. 

“Oh…” he cleared his throat “Oh, nothing I’m fine.” He tried but he knew it wouldn’t fool his inspector “Just remembering some ghosts of Christmas past, one nice and one, well for lack of a better word naughty.” he let himself be pulled tightly into a hug. He would get something great for Sherlock this year, find some way to try and reconnect with his little brother.


	4. Day 9: making a Christmas list

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 9 once written felt out of place as chapter 6, so I have shifted things around to make it flow better.

Day 9: Making a Christmas list 

Once Gregory had left to go Shopping with John, Mycroft changed into his running clothes and started up the treadmill. As he jogged he tried to think of what he could give Sherlock for Christmas. He hadn’t given him a thing in years. They don’t even wish each other a Happy Christmas. It’s no wonder really they are so different from when they were young. 

Upping the speed to a full sprint, Mycroft had no idea what to give his brother. “Sentiment” he huffed. Bach played through his headphones as he ran and his thoughts traveled instead to his beloved. Gregory was much easier. He already had ordered an elegant velour dressing gown and stately new watch. He had a dinner planned complete with all of the inspector’s favorite holiday foods, and Mycroft’s favorite desserts. 

At the thought of the desserts he was looking forward to in a week's time he upped the speed on the treadmill again. 

He reviewed the rest of his plans for his boyfriend’s Christmas gift as he ran at his max speed. The plane tickets were booked and safe in his top desk drawer, as were the hotel reservations and letters confirming private tours of the Colosseum, Sistine Chapel and Vatican Museums. It had come as a surprise to Mycroft to discover Gregory shared his great love of history, and so he planned to take them around the world to visit all the oldest places on earth, starting with his favorite; Rome. He also had already gotten a confirmation email from Greg’s superiors at Scotland Yard that ensured the time off for his inspector. Everything was in order. 

The exercise equipment beeped signaling he had reached his 45 minutes and slowed into cool down.  
He couldn’t whisk Sherlock away on a vacation, nor would he want to. He was looking to ease the hostility between them, not become BFFs. Clothing or anything materialistic wouldn't suit his needs either. 

He hopped off the treadmill and did his customary tummy check before picking up his water bottle. John was probably going to send him and Gregory a gift he realized. Ordinary people did things like that. Showing support for his brother's newfound happiness would be a good start. Heading towards the kitchen to make his protein shake he wondered what people give other couples. He thought back to last Christmas and remembered Greg’s parents had arranged reservations for them to eat at one of his favorite restaurants, he would do the same. It would be a simple task with his connections. 

He wandered into his study with his liquid lunch stopping to stare at the model pirate ship again. How could he tell Sherlock how much he cares for him without being uncharacteristically gushy or affectionate while simultaneously apologizing for putting his school work first? 

And then it hit him like a pie in the face. 

Turning to the file cabinet he rustled through for a moment then pulled out an old set of papers with the typical A++ scrawled across the top in red ink. He smiled at the memory of writing the short story his teacher had assigned, that he had kept very secret at the time. Now however it was perfect for expressing just how much his little brother meant to him. He lifted the cover and read :

The misadventures of the notorious pirate brothers Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes.


	5. Day 7:  nutcracker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oops I've fallen behind! I'll catch up :) 
> 
> Day 7 : John and Greg don't want to give their surprises away

“Are you sure about this?” John asked “It just seems so silly.”

“Do you want to surprise him or not?” Greg responded, turning the car into his driveway. “I mean genuinely surprise him.” 

“Well of course I do!” 

“Then you need his help. Besides I need this distraction, it’s going to help us both pull this off.” 

John sighed “Okay. You’re right, let’s go” he got out of the car. 

Greg lead the way up the front walk and unlocked the massive front door. Pushing it open he stepped into the mostly marble foyer and John followed. Looking around and up at the high ceilings he let out a low whistle “Damn Greg I’m always amazed by this place and that you actually live here.” 

The inspector laughed “So am I, and I’ve had a key to that front door over a year”

As they made their way around the massive house John was surprised to see Christmas decorations and was about to comment when Greg stopped short outside the sitting room.  
“Love?” he called out. 

“Yes I’m here Gregory, and good evening John.” Mycroft replied. 

Greg gave John a quick nod of encouragement and lead the way into the room. Mycroft was sitting in a plush armchair by the fire, a book in his lap he had clearly just been reading. Greg walked over and leaned down to place a kiss on his cheek. Then he stood back up beckoned towards John and said “Love, tell me what John bought Sherlock for Christmas.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow and looked the inspector up and down before doing the same to the doctor. 

“You are hoping my powers of deduction will assist you in keeping John’s Christmas gift a secret from Sherlock” he looked back at the silver haired man “This was your idea?”

“Well yea..” Greg was worried now, he knew that look and he couldn’t have Mycroft figure out there was a little black box sitting inside his jacket. “Come on Myc, you have to admit it makes sense, you know if he walks into that flat Sherlock will read him like you clearly just have. Help us out” he added with a smile “For me love” 

Mycroft sighed and walked over to John, circled him, then took his place back at Greg’s side. “I suggest a shower Mr. Watson and a change of clothes. More importantly you need a reason for being here to cover up this one or he will know you are up to something.” He wrapped his arm around greg’s waist almost absentmindedly “where have you put the dog?” 

“I, uh.. He’s at Molly's.” John stammered, he guessed he really shouldn't be surprised, it's no easy task to fool a Holmes. 

“I see, an Australian Shepherd?” 

John nearly fell backwards “how on earth do you know what breed the dog is? Jeez I guess Greg is right, I don’t have a hope of surprising Sherlock.” 

“Gregory is correct that you need my help if you want to be successful.” he ruffled his silver hair “So you need to wash the dog off of you, the scent of the shelter is on your skin and in your hair, you attempted to remove the dog hair from your clothes with a lint roller, unsuccessfully, so your clothing needs to be washed. I suggest you leave the adoption papers in your back pocket here until after you've presented the animal to Sherlock, and finally why don't you go put your jacket away Gregory so you don't give anything else away besides the fact that you're hiding something in the pocket.” 

The inspector blushed “Dammit Mycroft! You weren't supposed to be doing me!” he fled from the room to tend to his coat leaving Mycroft alone with John. 

“I don't think I'll ever get used to the pair of you deducting everything in sight.” John said “doesn't it suck to never be surprised?” 

“Quite the opposite my dear doctor, it seems matters of the heart are delightfully unpredictable. While a dog is rather obvious, I can honestly say I don't have any idea what it is that Gregory has brought home with him this evening. I do know he has been planning it some months and it is important to him. But seeing how I am surprised on a daily basis with the simple fact that such a man could be in love with me, I have little to go on as to what more he could possibly give to me.” he moved over to his chair and picked up his teacup from the table. 

John didn't know what to say. He had never heard the older Holmes talk this way, he wouldn't have thought it was possible. He shifted his feet awkwardly instead. He didn't want to give his friends plans away either. “So what do I tell Sherlock when he figures out I was here tonight?” 

“I’ll think on that while you go to the guest room to clean up.” he showed John down the hall and into one of the extra rooms. John showered quickly and found a pair of jogging pants and a hooded sweatshirt laid out for him when he was finished. 

When he rejoined his hosts he found them sitting together on the sofa. “Ah much better John, you no longer smell of the shelter.” 

“Glad my running clothes fit” Greg added. 

“So I believe I've come up with an acceptable plan, one that should be fairly successful in keeping my brother in the dark about your gift. I cannot however be responsible for you giving it away yourself John so do take care what you say. It's a perfect gift by the way, he will love it.” 

Two hours later John find himself walking up the steps of 221B. Heart pounding he walks into the flat and finds Sherlock stretched out across the couch. He wandered over and placed a kiss on his forehead. “Evening sweets, have a good day?”

The detective sat right up and looked John up and down “What's wrong? Why are you so anxious? What happened to your clothes?” 

“Oh… I spilled Hot cocoa all over me and this was all Greg had in his car and I.. Well.. I, that is after shopping Greg told me Mycroft wanted to see me.” 

“Hot cocoa? I assumed maybe traces of my brother ended up on you simply from being around his boyfriend all day. What did he want?” 

“Now don't get mad. I had no choice, he and Greg have plans that day and they simply can't take them.”

“Oh God.” Sherlock realized placing his hands on his face. 

John pulled a pair of tickets from his pocket and placed them on the coffee table in front of Sherlock. He looked through his fingers and read the horrifying words “The Nutcracker” 

“He's going to tell your parents we will meet them outside the theater at 7, and he said don't even bother because he won't be taking over at the interval.”


	6. Day 8 : Baking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to do a few shorter ones to catch up, so this is more of a stand alone tid-bit

CRASH!!! (sound of metal crashing to the floor)

“Ow, Dammit!” John rubs his head where the mixing bowl just hit him. “Why do these damn cupboards have to be so tall ?” 

“Why can’t you use the step stool that’s folded in the corner?” Came a teasing reply from the sitting room. Sherlock walked into the kitchen smirking at his short flatmate. “Are you all right? Let me see” he said as he pulled the blond head into the light to see better. 

John tried to shoo him off out of embarrassment and annoyance at the jibe “Yes I’m fine. Sherlock leave it I’m fine.” He tried to pull out of the detectives grip but he was held there firmly. Sherlock pressed John's body up against the counter with his. He planted a kiss on the reddening area on the doctor’s head and gazed down intently at his partner. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered.” Reaching up over their heads Sherlock effortlessly pulled down the mixer, flour and other bits he knew were needed and placed them behind John, then rested his arms on the lower shoulders in a very you-make-a-good-arm-rest sort of way. 

John flipped up his shoulders again trying to shoo the taller man off with a furrowed brow. When that was unsuccessful he tried to scoot out from between his flatmate and the counter which failed also. “Sherlock please, I need to get the cookies started, I’ve already waited until the last minute , the Christmas party is in 4 hours.” He was flustered all right. He hated rushing and also had to still shower and wrap his secret Santa gift. 

“Mmm... 4 hours is plenty of time” Sherlock said in a deeply suggestive tone and bent down to nibble on John’s ear. 

John’s frustrations melted at once. Sherlock started tracing kisses down his boyfriend’s neck towards his collarbone and the doctor felt himself go weak in the knee. In response the taller man wrapped his arms around the shorter’s waist to support him then leaned him back into a deep kiss. 

Breathless with sudden desire John broke the kiss “All right, shower first. The damn cookies can wait” and he lead Sherlock into the bathroom, leaving the mixing bowl on the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied! It's ending up fitting in my story arch after all :)


	7. Days 10+11 : Scrooge and Mulled wine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock have a Christmas party to attend.

Sherlock plopped down onto the bed wrapped in a towel watching John get dressed. “Do I have to come with you to this Christmas party? Can’t you just make some excuse ? Tell them I’m on a case ?” 

“Yes Sherlock, you’re my boyfriend and you need to come to this party with me.”

The detective huffed “I was unaware becoming your lover would entail such social obligations” 

John tsked in response and opened the closet to search for his Christmas jumper “We’ve already been through all this.” He pulled the shirt over his head and felt arms wrapping around his chest before he could get his head out.

“But we could have so much more fun here.” Sherlock whispered deep and sultry, kissing John’s neck when it emerged from the jumper. “Just the two of us.”

“It hasn’t even been 20 minutes!” John scoffed, though he was melting into the kisses all the same. He felt like a horny teenager these days, and Sherlock, he had been quite astonished to discover, was insatiable. The detective wanted it constantly when there wasn’t a case, and some times John had trouble keeping up. 

“Mmmm true, but you topped. Now it's my turn.” the detective moved his kisses up to John’s lips and attempted to snag him into the deep kiss he knew would bend the doctor to his will, but John pulled away before he could ensnare him. 

“No Sherlock, I want to go to this party. Stop trying to distract me to make us so late I'll decide to stay home.” god it was hard to overcome Sherlock’s advances. He was thankful he hadn’t yet put on his jeans with how tight his pants were becoming. 

“hrmph” a full on pout on his face, Sherlock returned to the bed and flopped back down. He hated when John was able to figure out his ulterior motives. “What if I refused to get dressed ? You won’t take me in a towel, you’ll have to leave me here.” He crossed his arms across his chest and deepened his pout. 

John was starting to get annoyed. They didn’t have time for this, and he wasn’t backing down. “Is this how you’d get your way with Mycroft when you were children? Pout and fuss until he gave in?” 

The reference to his childhood caught the detective off guard. He lowered his arms “I… Uh, what ? Where is that coming from?” his eyebrows lifted in realization “What did he tell you when you were over there getting those Nutcracker tickets?” Now Sherlock was getting annoyed that the conversation had turned to his brother.

“Nothing, nevermind. Forget it. Sherlock we really don’t have time for this. As it is I now have to buy cookies on the way. Please get dressed and stop acting this way.” 

The detective snapped up on to his feet “What way?! Like a child ! Is that how you think I am acting?” Properly irritated by the fact that John skirted his question he was yelling now. 

“No, No! That is not what I meant, not in anyway what I meant. Please calm down.” he put his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders to try and sooth him. “I only meant that you don’t have to make such a huge deal out of going to this party. I know it’s outside your comfort zone, but we agreed you’d come with me when we sent out the rsvp and you promised me it wouldn’t turn into exactly this once the day got here.”

Sherlock took a deep breath and exhaled it harshly through his nostrils. John was right, he did agree to do this when the invitation had arrived. But it’s easy to agree to an idea, faced with the actuality of being social however was something different. “This stupid holiday. Just because it’s near the 25th of December people have to get together and pretend to enjoy each other's company while eating poorly prepared food, having entirely too much to drink and then exchange secret _Santa_ gifts everyone ends up hating and returning.” the word Santa had hissed out of his mouth with as much disdain he could give a word.

“All right Ebenezer that’s enough.” John put his hands on his hips and pulled out his-ace-in-the-hole-face he used when he needed Sherlock to give in. “The simple facts of the matter are that you agreed to come, and promised me, John Watson, that you would. Are you breaking your promise Sherlock ?”

He had lost the argument. John’s carefully worded statement left no room for rebuttal. Sherlock would never break a promise to John Watson. He huffed again “All right John, fine.” and he moved towards his wardrobe to get dressed. 

~~~

The party was every bit as tortuous as Sherlock had feared. Loud tacky music, flashing lights, lousy food, and _small talk_. God he hated this. At least John was staying directly at his side per their agreement, and 1 hour 17, no 18 minutes of the agreed upon 4 hours had passed. 

“Are you hungry ?”

“No.”

“Well I am, are you going to follow me to the food table or stay here?”

Sherlock looked over at the table to see Anderson chatting up with some other member of the forensics department over the cheese platter. “I’ll stay here.” 

“All right love. I’ll be right back.” he stood up on tippy toe to plant a kiss on the taller man’s cheek before turning away. 

Swirling around the detective found an empty sofa and deposited himself onto it, taking his mobile out of his pocket. 

He had three missed texts: 

**Gregory wants you and John to come over for Christmas eve dinner.**

**It won’t kill us. Behave like an adult for once and just agree.**

**He will get John to drag you here. I’m afraid he is insistent.**

He quickly typed an irritated reply:

**I am not a child Mycroft.**

Then realizing his sibling was right about John getting involved added:

**It seems I have no choice.**

 

The conversation did nothing to improve his mood. This blasted holiday. He hated it. He loved John and would be perfectly happy to enjoy a private Christmas with him, but all of these silly social gatherings in the name of the 25th of December was so stupid. He hadn’t enjoyed this time of year since he was a small child. Everything about it is just so artificial. Looking up from his phone he saw John coming back and he tried to smile and do his best to not express his loathing. 1 hour 28 minutes down. 

“Here try this.” John handed him a cup. 

It was warm and that was comforting. Sherlock inhaled the aroma. Cloves, cinnamon, nutmeg, orange. He took another wiff; ooo honey. “What is this John?”

The doctor laughed “You’ve never had Mulled wine Sherlock? This really is your first Christmas party isn’t it.” 

Giving his partner a look that said stop-teasing-me-or-you’ll-regret-it, he took a sip. The liquid was in fact a wine of sorts, he felt the sting of the alcohol as he swallowed. The combination of the spices and honey were delightful though. All right at least there was one thing pleasurable about this wretched affair. Well one thing besides John. He continued to sip the drink contentedly. 

The pair sat together in silence a short while until Sherlock heard his mobile chirp. 

**The car will pick you up at 7pm Christmas eve. Gregory says to bring some wine.**

Sherlock rolled his eyes. His soon to be brother-in-law was proving himself to be rather bothersome this time of year. The unexpected deduction surprised him, but he put that aside for now.

“Lestrade apparently is insisting that we go have Christmas Eve dinner with him and Mycroft.”

John nearly choked on his wine. “Wow, really? and are we going ?” 

“He seems to believe I will be there either way.” 

“Cryptic Sherlock, but okay.”

“You don’t mind? I know my brother is unbearable.”

“I don’t think he’s as bad as you peg him out to be. I also don’t think you truly feel that way about him.” 

Huffing into his drink Sherlock chose not to reply. Where was this new attitude coming from. John had never attempted to analyze his relationship with his brother before. He pondered this silently while finishing his drink. Molly came over to them at some point with her latest attempt at finding a Sherlock-like substitute and engaged John in some pointless chit chat. Searching for an escape from the mundane conversation Sherlock grabbed John’s now empty cup and went to get them both more wine. 2 hours 17 minutes. 

When they were finishing their third glass of the warm and spicy beverage Sherlock was starting to feel it’s effects. Refilling the glasses however was a perfect reason to dodge unpleasant interactions with the other guests so he kept doing it. At the end of glass four he was definitely having computing troubles. 2 hours 53 minutes ? no 3 hours 15 minutes. yeah that’s it. He had forgotten his annoyance and the music mercifully someone had changed to the Trans Siberian Orchestra which he was quite fond of. He pulled John in close to his side and bent down to nuzzle his neck. 

“I love you, John.” he whispered.

John smiled, grateful Sherlock had FINALLY relaxed “I love you too, you cranky sod” and kissed him. 

 

4 hours 38 minutes and a total of 5 glasses of wine had passed before they stumbled into the back of a cab and headed home to Baker street. They helped each other up the stairs giggling at their lack of coordination. John pulled Sherlock down into a sloppy drunken kiss the moment they were in their flat. “Now what was it you were saying about it being your turn to top?” 

Sherlock actually growled at John before reconnecting the kiss and rushing him backwards into their bedroom.


	8. Days 12+13 Ugly Christmas jumpers and warming by the fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> is it getting hot in here ?
> 
> this ones nsfw so please skip it if that's not your cup of tea :)

When Greg’s watch beeped signaling 1pm, he glanced at it then leaned back into a stretch in his desk chair. How can it only be 1? This Monday was passing incredibly slow. So was this week. Two more days and it would be Christmas Eve. Two more days and he would be asking an amazing man to be his husband. His butterflies resumed their dancing. Two more days and he would finally be able to eat properly again. What if he was refused? What would happen? Would they stay the same? He couldn’t imagine Mycroft rejecting him to the point of asking him to leave. He was confident enough in their relationship to know this was a forever thing. What he didn’t know was if Mycroft wanted to be married or not. But Greg definitely did. He wanted a wedding band on his finger, wanted to say ‘my husband’ when he talked to others. He wanted to make vows of love and devotion to the man who made love real. 

He opened his top desk drawer to check on the black velvet box for the hundredth time. He had tried several hiding places around the house and they all seemed too obvious. He was certain if it was in the house Mycroft would figure things out. Not that he expected the man to go rooting through his underwear drawer, but he wasn't taking any chances. 

He was just about to take the box out when his office door opened. He closed his finger in the drawer in his haste to close it.

“Ah dammit!’ he exclaimed putting his stinging finger in his mouth. “What do you want Donovon?”

“Pleased to see you too boss.” she wandered over and sat opposite him, a thick file in her hands. “What are you hiding in the drawer then?” she teased.

Lestrade realized a flush in his cheeks must be giving him away. “Nothing, none of your business. Is that the Morgan case file?”

Donovan wouldn’t be so easily side stepped. She squinted at him and leaned forward “It’s Mycroft’s gift isn’t it?” 

The inspector sighed and rubbed his face. This was the problem with working in an office full of detectives. It hadn’t taken them long to figure out he had started dating Mycroft two years ago. 

“So what if it is? I can’t leave it at home, I’ve told you how hard it is to surprise him.” He gave her a look that said drop it, he didn’t want to tell anyone at work he was planning to propose incase he was turned down. 

She smirked at him knowingly and pushed a little more “Is it jewelry?” 

“Aw no come on!” his anxiety building “I get enough of that at home and when Sherlock is around, how can you know it’s jewelry ?!” 

Her face showed how appalled she was at the reference. “I’m not a freak. You’re just obvious.” she reached over and yanked a paper out from under a stack of photos with flourish and slapped it on top of the pile before dropping the file she had brought in and left his office. 

Looking at the credit card receipt now sitting in plain sight he sighed. It was a good thing he had bought this stuff to the office. He was rubbish at secrets but he was determined this time. His text alert sounded and he searched through his mess of paperwork for his mobile. Mycroft had sent a picture message that made the inspector flush brilliantly, followed by text that said: I can’t wait to feel your hands on me. 

Greg pulled at his collar and loosened his tie, it was suddenly quite hot in his office. 

Another text tone, another photo of a bottle of wine and a six pack of his favorite beer and a pile of ingredients that would make a delicious meal. Suddenly the inspector knew where this was going just as the next message arrived: Do we have to go to this gathering of ugly christmas jumpers tonight? 

 

************************************************************************************  
Mycroft was much better at getting out of a Christmas party than Sherlock.  
************************************************************************************

Lestrade had rushed home the second he was able to get away from work. He found the house full of enticing aromas and the kitchen light by soft candle light. They ate and talked about random things much happier at home together then at the Christmas party. When the meal was finished their conversations came back to a request Greg had made this morning. 

“Why are we doing this? We never do this” Mycroft leaned back in his chair. 

“Just because you never have done it doesn't mean we can't start doing it now.” 

Mycroft huffed and took the paper his boyfriend was handing him. He quickly read through the list with a raised eyebrow. “Perfectly satisfactory Gregory” and he passed it back across the table. “However I don't think you should prepare lamb.” 

“Oh come one why not? It’s my favorite!” 

The taller man knew perfectly well that it was the inspectors favorite, that's why he had it planned for Christmas day. It wouldn't do to have it twice. He would rather not give away all his secret preparations however. “I think duck is more appropriate.” 

“Appropriate? Why? Why is lamb not appropriate?” this was the first time Greg was getting to plan a holiday meal with Mycroft and he wanted it to be perfect. Not only because he planned to ask his question at midnight, but because he knew how much his partner really wanted to reconnect with his brother. “Doesn't Sherlock like Lamb?” 

Mycroft decided take the out Greg was offering him “No I don't think he does Gregory.” It wasn't entirely untrue, he did remember a meal at their Grandparents house in which Sherlock had fed all his lamb to Redbeard under the table, but he was only 8 then. 

“Oh okay then, why didn't you just say that silly?” and he leaned over to kiss the younger man. Picking up his pen he made adjustments “Okay duck then, which means I won't serve these potatoes, I'll make our risotto instead. Maybe John and Sherlock can bring some wine. You'll handle the deserts?” he added with a sly smile looking back at his lover. 

Mycroft simply raised an eyebrow again in response then stood to clear their dinner dishes. “So you're sure you want to do this then? I cannot fathom why.” 

“I just think now that they are a couple it would be nice to do things more as a family. Not all the time!” he added quickly seeing the rebuttal build in Mycroft's face “ but at least at Christmas” he knew better than to tell his genius boyfriend he had figured out he misses his brother. Lestrade moved over to help with the dishes. 

Handing the shorter man a wet plate to dry and looking down at him, Mycroft smiled softly. Gregory wanted him and Sherlock to spend Christmas together. He had been rather reminiscent of recent, and he had been horrified to find his partner reading the short story he had left out on his desk this morning. He supposed the jig was up. The man was a detective after all, and in love with him. It shouldn’t be surprising the inspector had figured out that he wanted to reconnect with his little brother. They finished washing their dishes, partially leaned against one another, listening to the soft classical guitar music that drifted around the house. When the dishes were all dry and stacked neatly back in their cupboards Mycroft pulled his inspector in close by his belt loops to lock their hips together. Slowly leaning down to wrap his arms around the small of his back, Mycroft nuzzled his face against the side of Greg’s and swayed to the melody slightly. 

“Family” he whispered directly into Greg’s ear “my dear inspector you give so many words completely new meaning.” he stood up so they could look at each other again. “If this is what you want then of course we will do it. You may however have a time getting Sherlock here.” 

Lestrade smiled brightly and took lead to move them around the kitchen to the rhythm properly “Don't worry about that, I know John will get him here.” swooping all six feet two inches of his lovers tall frame back into a low dive, he kissed him deeply before swinging him back up and into a slight spin. Mycroft let himself be spun around and twisted over to the table to grab his mobile before curling back around into Greg’s arms. “I suppose I'll pass along the invitation then”

“Now?” The inspector looked at the clock “they're bound to be at that party we skipped out on, I wouldn't call him now.” 

“Fine I'll _text_ him” he hissed, and quickly did so. “that reminds me, there was a reason we didn't join in the festivities was there not?” tossing his mobile on the counter in favor of nibbling at Greg’s neck and running his hand up under his shirt to make contact with his inspector's warm skin. He bit down at the base of his neck just hard enough to sting slightly in that oh-so-good way releasing a moan from the silver haired man. 

Rolling his hips into Mycroft's in response to the sting Greg reached up to grab a handful of ginger hair and tugged the freckled neck down to his level and returned the bite more lustfully. 

“Easy inspector, that is above the collar, kindly move lower if you intend to be so enthusiastic.” he posh-ly requested as he started working at the buttons on Greg's shirt. 

Their eyes met and they simultaneously inhaled, pulling their faces in together with the breath, exhaling hotly into a wild kiss. Hands rustling through ginger and silver hair, heads twisting back and forth trying to get their tongues into the others mouth as much as possible. Mycroft ran his hands down Greg's neck, under his collar, onto his bare shoulders then pushed his unbuttoned shirt off into the floor and his own waistcoat quickly followed it. 

The pair started moving while maintaining the desperate kiss. Greg fumbling with buttons trying to find the freckled chest he loved so much, Mycroft fumbling to toe out of his shoes as he was guided backwards towards the sitting room. 

Finally reaching the final blasted button Greg tore the expensive fabric from his lover's torso and threw it to the corner and started at his trousers. Mycroft broke the kiss with a gasp for air and slung his head back giving the inspector lots of neck to trace kisses down. He nibbled at the freckled collarbone as he slid his hand into the pinstriped trousers he had gotten open. He just managed to get a handful of a firm bundle of pants when they heard Mycroft’s mobile cut through the steamy atmosphere like an icy wind. 

They both froze in place and slumped in disappointment. It was the country-needs-you-this-can’t-wait ringtone and Mycroft kissed Greg’s nose sweetly before wandering into the kitchen. He stepped back into the doorway and locked eyes with Greg just as he answered “Yes? What is it?” and slowly ran his hand down inside his trousers as he gazed at the older man across the room. “No! No not that one, good lord who put you in charge of this? Send the Dragon-Age file. Yes. No.” he continued to rattle off instructions keeping Greg locked in eye contact. He continued to run his free hand down his leg until he had removed his trousers and strode back over to Greg’s side planting silent kissed on his neck and reaching down with his free hand to pop open the snap on the shorter man’s jeans. “No, no! Seriously what am I paying you for if you can’t figure this out. The fate of this entire treaty rests on these documents arriving on time and you have single handedly managed to make an exquisite mess of things.” He had his hand inside Greg’s pants now silently stroking him and staring intently into his eyes telling his lover to keep quiet. 

Lestrade was finding it quite difficult to hold in the sounds of pleasure building in his throat. He bit his lip to help hold them back as experienced fingers rubbed across the tip of his cock dragging precome down to lubricate his strokes. He could see the fire burning in Mycroft’s eyes and he reached across to tug down the taller man’s pants and grabbed ahold of his cock in return. The ginger head snapped back at the contact and opened his mouth into a breathless silent moan. “Enough of your excuses, can you handle this or not? We cannot afford to start over again on this issue.” The Inspector was amazed his lover was able disguise the arousal in his voice, but then at this point in their relationship he was well practiced at that.

Suddenly Mycroft’s attitude shifted. His posture stiffened and he withdrew his hand from Greg’s pants. “Say that again.” he said into the mobile in his dangerously threatening tone. The inspector knew what that meant and released his grip as well. Mycroft place a single silent kiss on Greg’s forehead and was off down the hallway, naked, to his study. Knowing this could take a while, the inspector stepped out of his jeans and decided to start a fire while he waited for the British Government to deal with whatever crises had interrupted them.

He enjoyed the music and the anticipation while he sat in the light of the fire and Christmas lights. It was was quite a while until his lover returned. He was pale and shivering. Greg jumped up to wrap his arms around his freezing boyfriend and pull him close to the fire. They sat on the cushions and cuddled sharing Greg’s body heat. 

“Probably should keep a dressing gown in my study for emergencies.” Mycroft reasoned when his teeth had stopped chattering “The leather of my desk chair was so cold it stung.”

“Shall I warm up your cheeks for you?” Greg asked in a highly suggestive tone and he leaned Mycroft onto his back there in front of the fire, determined to heat his lover right back up. 

“Mmm yes that would be lovely”


	9. Days 14+16 Trimming the tree and family traditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John find out new things about each other as they decorate their tree

“This one John?” Sherlock asked climbing the stairs with a box in his arms. “There are three boxes of exactly the same size labeled Christmas in the cellar, however since this one was covered with the least amount of dust I assumed it must be the one box you wanted.” he set it on the table.

Unfolding the flaps John peered into the box “Yes this is it, thank you love” kissing his cheek in appreciation. He pulled out a wad of lights and handed them to the detective “Here, untangle” then he dramatically hit the stopwatch button on his watch. Sherlock shook his head and raised his brow with an unspoken seriously-your-timing-me? then furrowed in determination and set to work accepting the challenge.

John took out several shoe-boxes filled with ornaments and slid them on the table pushing the now empty outer box to the floor. Christmas music filled the flat, John had insisted it was a requirement to trim a tree, and they both had glasses of eggnog to enjoy while they worked. It had been surprisingly easy to get the detective to agree to this ordinary of tasks; John simply pointed out that it would make him happy for them to do it together for their first Christmas as a couple and Sherlock had pulled him into a tight hug and asked where the decorations were. It was endearing to see how much them finally being together meant to the other man.

“Done!”

“4 minutes 38 seconds. Not bad Sherlock.” and with a chuckle he walked over to pick up a pen and scribbled it down into a small, but thick, notebook.

“You’re not planning to blog about this are you John?” a hint of hesitation in his voice. He loved John, but he didn’t exactly want the world knowing Sherlock Holmes enjoys Christmas decorating.

John laughed “No, no. I’ve told you the blog is only for our cases not our personal life. I bought this in the bookstore the other day.” closing the notebook he held it out for Sherlock to investigate. It said “5 year reflection book” on the cover and when the detective flipped through it he found that each page had a date of the year on it and was divided into 5 sections. The genius didn’t quite get it and he looked questioningly at John.

The doctor laughed again. “It’s a sentiment thing, that’s why you don’t understand.” He reassured him “Each day I write a short statement recording a memory from that day, see ?” he flipped to today’s date and showed him how he had written :

trimmed tree, SH untangled lights 4 min 38 sec 

“then next year I’ll write in the next row of boxes what we did on each day, and eventually we’ll have a nice little record of our personal time together. So.. so we can remember everything.” He finished feeling a little silly. It seemed such a perfect thing in the shop and he was quite excited about it. After all John didn’t have a mind palace did he? But explaining it out loud to Sherlock it suddenly felt rather silly. When he looked up at his boyfriend however his face was full of emotion and a warm smile was across it.

“I think that’s a lovely idea John. May I write in it too from time to time?” he was slightly overwhelmed by the knowledge that even though they had been a couple a short while John was planning on spending 5 years together to complete this book.

“Well of course! But ONLY to record things about US, no experiment data.” and he leaned up to draw them into a kiss then smiled. “So next year, you see, you’ll have to best this time untangling the lights.”

Sherlock laughed “If I had known this before I started I would have done better” and he picked up the lights to start wrapping the tree.

“Well you don’t want to set the bar too high, at least now it will be easy to beat it next year.”

“True, and if I take the lights down I can facilitate that when I put them away.”

“Oh no you don’t, that’s cheating. I will put them away.”

“Fine, but no deliberately making them more tangled. No tieing them in knots or anything of that sort.”

“I accept your terms, do we have an accord?” he stuck out his hand with a sly smile.

Sherlock shook sealing the deal, smiling back at his lover's choice of words. 

They hung the lights and moved onto the boxes of baubles and assorted dodads. “Why are there two more boxes downstairs if we’re only using this one?” the detective asked.

“Well one is filled with outdoor decorations, I can’t see them out front here on Baker Street, but I can’t get rid of them either. I mean someday I’d like to live somewhere with a yard.”

Sherlock startled at this information. John not live at Baker Street? He was just talking about a 5 year book, why would he leave Baker Street?

“Us.” John said reading his boyfriend's thoughts from the other side of the desk. “I’d like US to live somewhere with a yard.” and Sherlock relaxed a little. Stupid. Obvious. Of course John meant the two of them. He hoped one day the nagging voice that taunted his subconscious would realize John had no intentions of leaving him.

“I never thought of us ever leaving Baker Street.” Sherlock confessed.

“You wouldn’t want to?” John asked a hint of worry to his voice. He’d obviously live wherever Sherlock wanted, even in the middle of the desert as long as they were together, but the city wasn’t where he had always imagined his retirement. He wanted to be near the sea in a cottage with a garden.

“No, actually I do. I just had never given the thought proper analysis. When I retire from casework I want to keep bees, you can’t do that in London.” he said trying to get the star on top of the tree with every inch of his 6 foot frame.

“Bees!?” John marveled. Of course Sherlock Holmes would have an outlandish plan for retirement. He shouldn’t have expected anything else. “I can’t believe you see a day when you’re not solving cases anymore.”

“I'm nothing if not a realist John, I won’t always be able to run around the city jumping rooftops chasing murderers.”

John laughed “Well that is true. More eggnog ?” he asked picking up their glasses.

“Tea would be better.”

“All right” and he went into the kitchen to put the kettle on, while Sherlock settled onto the sofa to examine their work. The lights and baubles were evenly distributed, the star was straight. He smiled and leaned back into the cushions, the fairy light was soft and comforting and he had to admit the Christmas music was nice too. He realized suddenly his parents had predicted this. They had told him and Mycroft when they found the person who they were meant to be with they would understand Christmas. He decided to make a space for the holiday with John in his mind palace like John’s little notebook. He could do that later though, when John was asleep. “What is in the other box then if just one has outdoor decorations?” He called to his partner in the kitchen. The sound of teacups fumbling on the counter told Sherlock John was hoping he wouldn’t have asked this question. He got up and went into the other room to give his blogger his best out-with-it look.

“Um, er… well.” A beautiful flush started pinking up his cheeks “Stuff from my childhood Christmases” he said softly. “Stuff I made in school” he wouldn’t meet Sherlock’s eye, it was a bit embarrassing “and after” he added.

“Things you’ve made? and after school ?” the detective was already heading to retrieve this delightful box and John huffed and squared his shoulders preparing himself for Sherlock to be going through this box.

When the dust covered box was on the coffee table, John opened it and started pulling things out to show his companion. There were customary popsicle stick frames with adorable picture of John from his early school years, one with a small hand-print that said “John age 4” on it that Sherlock had to hug when it was handed to him before he immediately moved to put it on the tree. Taking over going through the box he found many funny looking reindeer, Santas and snowmen. Then inside a separate box were more glass baubles beautifully painted with Christmas scenes, and there was more than a dozen of them. “What are these John?” they clearly had not been painted by a child.

“Well making an ornament every year was sort of a tradition growing up” John replied gesturing at the ornament covered tabletop “One year my mum brought home these clear glass baubles to be painted and I just took to it. I had never really painted anything before, and something about it just clicked. It started with these but I eventually moved to canvas. But none of that is here at Baker street” he added quickly anticipating the detective's curiosity.

Sherlock examined the glass orbs with renewed interest. John had painted these? but they were exquisite, finely detailed little paintings. “I had no idea you could paint like this John.”

“Yea well painting isn’t exactly the activity of soldier is it? I sort of gave it up when I left for service.”

A sense of empathy swelled in Sherlock. John had a hidden passion just like his dancing. “Why haven’t you resumed now that you’re retired from the army?”

“Well I got caught right up with you and our adventures didn’t I? Didn’t really have time to breathe much less paint. Although I have to admit, sometimes when you're composing I feel the old inspiration.

Sherlock loved this thought. An enchanting image filled his mind of a future Christmas in a cottage by the sea, John seated at an easel while he played the piece he had written secretly as part of John’s Christmas gift. His entire body filled with the warmth of the intensity of his love for that moment. The possibility of that future. He needed this man with every fiber of his being. Unexpected tears in his eyes he pulled John into the tightest hug he could manage. “Every day I love you more John Watson.”

Startled by the unexpected emotional display John melted into his lover’s words “I love you too Sherlock Holmes.”

“Get dressed, we’re going to the shop.” Sherlock stated releasing John and going over to the desk.

“What now? Why?” John puzzled.

Sherlock was scribbling something down “we need to get supplies” and then handed the 5 year book to John who read the new addition:

trimmed tree, SH untangled lights; 4 min 38 sec 

SH+JW painted ornaments together for 1st time 


	10. Days 17+18 Christmas without you and Mistletoe

“Are you feeling quite well Gregory?” 

Lestrade’s shoulders involuntarily jumped at the question and he looked up from shifting his peas around on his plate. “Yes..” his voice cracked ‘dammit Greg get a grip’ he sipped from his beer and tried again “Yes love, fine. Why do you ask ?” he failed at keeping the worry out of his question.

Mycroft gave him _the look_ ; head slightly pulled back and tilted to one side, eyebrow raised, lips in a thin line. Greg was a goner. He mentally started building his cover story as his boyfriend inhaled in dramatic effect as he always did before unleashing his genius. And he said Sherlock was the drama queen. 

“You just deeply exhaled for the fifth time since we sat down to our meal and those peas have touched every surface of your plate but not left it.” Mycroft paused a moment debating if he should say more before continuing “In fact in the past four days, your eating has decreased by exactly 8% per meal, you have awoken an average of three times a night for between 21-36 minutes each time, and you have spent an extra 17 minutes in the bathroom during your morning rituals. Your neck and face rubbing at home is starting to rival your time spent at work. The lines along you eyes have deepened, as has your voice; which has been increasingly absent. Not that I mind the quiet, however it is most unusual.” He picked up his wine and emptied the glass.

He had been on the receiving end of Mycroft’s deductions for almost 3 years, yet Greg was still marveled at this man's observational skills. He closed his mouth realizing it was hanging open and swallowed. ‘Shit, he’s on to me. Thank goodness I prepared for this.’ he smiled up at his lover across the table “I’m sure you’re enjoying the break from hearing all about my crazy days at the yard.” he chuckled “I’m okay though love, really.” He knew this would fail but he had to play these cards just right. 

“Honestly Gregory, do you expect me to believe all of these changes are without reason? Something is going on, and I suggest you tell me. You know I have ways of finding out.” crossing his arms Mycroft leaned back and fixed Greg with a stare the older man knew well. Soft but serious. Calculating yet patient. As patient as Holmes gets anyway.

The threat was a loving tease but sent a shudder up the inspectors spine all the same. “It’s silly, I don’t want to bother you with it.” being no stranger to observation himself the inspector caught the softening of his companion's face before he lowered his arms. ‘So far so good Greg, you can do this.’

When Mycroft spoke again it was indeed in his softest tone reserved only for his inspector. “It must be of importance or it would not be disrupting your eating and sleeping habits so. I wish you would tell me.” 

Greg sighed heavily and leaned back holding his beer. He stared into the suds as he thought ‘gotcha! This is going to work.’ when he spoke he did so into his mug to keep up the rouse “It’s over Christmas Eve. I feel guilty for forcing you and Sherlock into this dinner. I know it’s not something either of you would choose to do, and I worry it’s a mistake. I’ve been waking up from nightmarish visions of the evening going horribly wrong, potatoes flying across the room, the pair of you ending up worse rather than closer.” he took the last swig of his drink quickly to hide his smirk. That was good, he almost convinced himself. 

The wave of relief that washed over Mycroft would have been observed by a blind man. He started to laugh “Oh thanks goodness, is that all !?” he got up and kissed his silvery locks then went to refill Lestrade’s beer from the tap he had installed for their 2 year anniversary. After he set the frosty mug down he swung a leg over the older man’s knees and the 6 foot 3 inch man positioned himself on Greg’s lap slightly awkwardly. He kissed him properly. “I am so pleased I was wrong. Which is a new feeling for me I must confess” and he wrapped his arms around Greg’s middle bringing his head to rest in the crook of the inspector’s neck. 

Stomach instantly in knots, Greg started to worry properly now. Did Mycroft think he was planning to propose and this relief comes from not having to turn him down? Hesitation in his voice he asked “What did you think was wrong?” he braced himself for the worst. 

The man in his lap didn’t move when he answered so his breath ghosted against the skin of Greg’s neck “I thought you had a new case that was going to take you away from me on Christmas, which equally upset you at having to be away and you didn’t know how to tell me.” he nuzzled into Greg’s skin “I do not ever want to spend a Christmas without you.” 

The inspector wrapped his arms snugly around the British government and squeezed tightly, thankful Mycroft's response had nothing to do with marriage “You know you can use your connections to prevent that from happening.”

Mycroft sat straight up and looked him in the eye “You said I was never to meddle in your career Gregory. I’ve abided by your wishes.” 

“Thank you love, but you have my permission in this case, I never want to be outside these arms on Christmas.” 

 

Mycroft smiled and kissed him before getting up, then cleared their dishes away as Greg finished his beer. ‘That went even better than expected’ the inspector thought ‘I definitely owe Sherlock a proper cold case file.’ 

~~~

Two days ago John and Sherlock were in his office at the yard. He had actually gotten them to come help him finish paperwork for the mandolin case when it happened.

“You’re going to ask my brother to marry you.” 

A look of disbelief and exasperation crossed the inspector's face before he realized it was pointless to deny it “Yes Sherlock I am.” he waited for a response, he had no idea what to expect. Sherlock was quietly staring at him for an uncomfortable amount of time. 

Finally John had to break the silence “I’m glad I can talk about this now, I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out.” 

Sherlock still didn’t respond. Greg actually felt himself start to sweat, did Sherlock disapprove ? He hadn’t thought of that possibility. The detective had never understood their relationship, but Greg always thought it was because he found the idea of his brother romantically involved with anyone repulsive. He had never considered it maybe because he doesn’t approve of him dating Mycroft. “I’m amazed that it’s been 3 whole days since you helped me pick out the ring and this is the first you’ve said anything. Sherlock?” he added the question to try and draw a response out of him. 

When Sherlock stood abruptly the other two men automatically followed suit, unsure what was about to happen. The detective moved around behind the desk and pulled Greg into a tight hug. “You’re perfect for him Greg, welcome to the family.” 

The inspector stood with his arms sticking out completely shocked by the hug, the incredible statement and the fact that Sherlock had actually gotten his name right. “I...uh.. well thanks” and he hugged back “he still has to say yes though before you go welcoming me anywhere.”

Sherlock actually laughed as he took his place back at John’s side, grabbing the doctor’s hand and holding it firmly “Don’t be ridiculous, of course he will” he pecked a kiss to John’s temple and whispered “I love you” into his ear. 

John’s insides squirmed as they always did when he heard those words and he wrapped his arms around to hold Sherlock’s bicep. “Of course he will Greg, you’ve been together for ages.” He allowed himself to daydream about becoming a Holmes one day himself possibly. 

Hearing from his brother that Mycroft would say yes did make him feel better, but his gut was still tense. Not long now, and he would have his answer. 

“You’re going to give it away though. I’m assuming that you want this to be a surprise? You were right to bring the ring here to your desk and not keep it in the house, but your worry over his answer is very obvious and he has already noticed.”

“How do you know that ?! Has he talked to you about me?” Lestrade had also never considered that possibility, even after all this time, that the two brothers would talk about him. After all they aren't exactly the sort to exchange sex stories. 

“If I have noticed surely the man you live with has.”

“Okay I grant you that, but I'm a wreck of nerves over it, I can’t exactly turn that off can I ?”

“No I am sure you can’t. You need a believable cover story and need to know how to deliver it when he eventually confronts you about your change in habits. 

Greg had to hold in a laugh, Mycroft helped John hide the dog from Sherlock, and now Sherlock was helping him hide his plans. Offering to willingly no less. The four of them were starting to feel like family. 

They took the conversation to lunch in a little cafe around the corner from the yard. The place was all done up for the holiday and had Christmas music playing like everywhere did this time of year. They ate and came up with the idea to blame Greg’s jitters on their upcoming holiday meal. Sherlock thoroughly tested him with many possible follow up questions to be sure he had all his bases covered. Then the detective assessed Greg’s physical tells and advised him accordingly how to prevent his brother from knowing he wasn’t being honest with him. When at last he was satisfied he added sternly “If you ever use what I have taught you today to do anything hurtful to my brother remember how efficient I would be at covering up a murder.” 

“Noted.” Greg smiled at the threat, Sherlock cared for Mycroft he couldn’t deny him that. “You know I would never do such a thing, but I understand your needing to say it.”

Sherlock’s firm stance relaxed and he asked “Is this the reason why you have insisted on Christmas Eve dinner together ?”

“Yea, well part of it. I mean if I get my answer I’ll be your brother-in-law and you’ve never had a meal with us in our house.”

“Dull.” he said rolling his eyes. 

“Sherlock!” John chastised lovingly “He has a point you know, besides it’s only your brother, it’s not like your parents are going to be there too.” The detected over acted a shudder of repulsion, but John knew better “Oh please you big oaf, you wouldn’t be doing so many test runs with bread recipes to bring to this dinner if you weren't looking forward to it.” Standing the doctor lovingly ruffled his curls as he headed to the loo. 

Greg laughed at the detective’s face “John only said you’ve been baking, you don’t have to look so mortified. It’s not like he told me about what you two do in the shower or in a dark bedr… ” 

“Stopping talking now.” Sherlock pleaded, blushing furiously. “Yes, I enjoy baking between cases. Yes, I am making bread for us to have with your meal. No, I do not want to talk about my physical relations with John.” 

The inspector exploded in a hearty belly laugh “Oh my god!” he kept laughing making Sherlock quite puzzled. Wiping a tear from his eye he explained “Mycroft calls it the same thing, physical relations. Hilarious. Holmes boys can’t just say sex life.”

Properly disgusted at the common ground Sherlock resolved never to use those words again. “Please refrain from talk of my brother’s _sex life_ , I do not want to lose my lunch.” he shook his head trying to delete the images running through his mind as quickly as they manifested. 

“Okay Sherlock” Lestrade was laughing again “I’ll save those conversations to have with John, all right?”

Before Sherlock could argue with that statement the counter worker’s voice called over to him across the cafe “Yoo hoo ! Hey tall dark and handsome in the coat, you’re needed over here.” Turning around he noticed John at the counter getting some coffee and a cookie, then following the woman’s arm with his eyes he saw the mistletoe hanging above the cash register. The look on her face said she clearly enjoyed enforcing this tradition on her patrons a great deal. John looked up, blushed slightly and turned to Sherlock opening his arms. Sherlock would never pass an opportunity to kiss John. Three long strides and the detective was in John’s arms. One hand on the doctor’s back, the other cupping the back of his head, thumb near his ear gripping gently. He locked their gazes, tilted John’s head back and brought their lips together. John smiled into the kiss and pulled their waists together. The cashier beamed. 

Lestrade called “Hey get a room you two” to which John responded with the time honored gesture of mind your own business.


	11. Days 19-23 catch up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so busy with Christmas perpetration and hosting I feel behind but today in honor of boxing day I will catch up :)

Sherlock opens the door to 221b and Trans Siberian Orchestra’s Carol of the bells comes exploding out at him. The stereo is set at it’s maximum setting and the walls shake with the pulse of the music. 

But it’s June.

He climbs the stairs and finds John sitting in his chair, knees pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped around them. Walking over to turn the volume down to a tolerable level, then turns to sit opposite his flatmate. John had been back at Baker street for 6 months and had been acting very strangely since doing so. It had been explained to Sherlock that John’s bizarre behavior is understandable given the state of things, it wasn’t a trivial thing your wife ran off with her ex boyfriend after revealing it was his baby she was carrying apparently. Yet still Sherlock had troubles with the moping, lazy, unbathing, sometimes violently angry man who had moved back in. He thought it was high time John started acting like his old self again, but couldn’t figure out how to help him get there. 

He watched John listen to the music, waiting for something to give him some sort of idea why he had chosen to listen to Christmas music in June. The doctor swayed back and forth slightly and kept his eyes closed. The song ended and the next track started and John still didn’t acknowledge Sherlock’s presence. The detective hated being ignored, he picked up his violin and started playing with the music. At least that way John was listening to him as well. 

John opened his eyes and looked up at Sherlock with the same sad, angry and hurt eyes that had been staring at him these past months. He stood and moved to the stereo, turning it off harshly, then went off into the kitchen slamming things as he prepared to make tea. 

Okay so the violin wasn’t helping. Sherlock stopped playing and put it down “You’ll break another mug if you continue slamming things John.” He was irritated with John’s silent mood and automatically started pushing the man’s buttons. 

“Who cares about the bloody mugs ?!” John yelled. 

‘Crap’ Sherlock thought ‘he is in one of these moods’ he sighed “Well you did, a great deal, last week when in your anger you broke your favorite blue one and you stormed off into the night over it.”

John punched the table “It wasn’t the mug! It was never the mug!” 

The detective is properly confused now. What on earth was bothering him so badly. He couldn’t accept that all this was simply from Mary leaving, after all that she had put him through Sherlock thought John ought to feel relieved. Two weeks after Christmas John had come home early to find her and David together and the truth of all things along with them. She had lied to him, cheated on him throughout the entirety of their relationship, and shot his best friend who had only just come back from the dead. The last one being reason enough to be glad to be rid of her in the detective's opinion. 

“Seriously for a genius you can be incredibly thick. Don’t you have any idea what I am going through? Any idea at all? Have you even ever been in love? Dealt with the pain of loss? I feel like I’m being torn apart.” he was still yelling, but his eyes were filling. 

Of course Sherlock knew exactly the pain to which John was referring and it angered him now to be accused of never knowing that feeling. It swelled inside him making him clench his fists. The love he felt was far greater than anything John had ever felt for Mary. It was the love of sonnets and poetry, of music in the night, of the very gods. To be told he couldn’t feel when he felt so deeply was pushing him to the edge of his own control. It was comparable to Mycroft calling him stupid. “John, I…” he tried but was cut off. 

“No of course not!!” John continued tears falling now “You’re a bloody machine, you have no idea what it feels like to have someone you love not love you ba…” 

“WELL AT LEAST YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO BE BEST MAN AT HER WEDDING, WATCHING HER MARRY SOMEONE ELSE!!” Sherlock finally snapped and instantly wanted to take it back. ‘Shit, shit, shit’ he thought. 

“What?” John’s voice lowered and his body relaxed as understanding waved over him at what he had just heard. He went back into stand near his flatmate “Sherlock?” he dared not even think the words his brain was trying to put together. If he did understand what that meant... if Sherlock did then that means… no, that’s crazy. 

Sherlock stood frozen in the living room. He wanted to flee to his room and bolt the door. He wanted to phone Mycroft and have him send him off into Siberia again to be anywhere but here at this moment. Yet he couldn’t move, couldn’t take his eyes off of John. He saw the recognition behind John’s eyes, the doctor knew what he meant. He had unintentionally let the cat out of the bag. Finding some courage in the blue eyes staring up at him he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was now or never. 

“I love you John. I always have. But since you’re so adamantly not gay I have kept it to myself and suffered in silence all these years. Watching you give your heart to girl after girl and never to me. Slowly tearing me to pieces, bit by bit. I don’t love easily John, and for someone like me to fall for someone I can never have, well it’s been a torture you’ll never know. So don’t talk to me about being in pain, I’ve been living there since you first shot a cabbie to save my life.” he did it, finally said it. He maybe about to lose his friend forever but at least he had finally said the words out loud. 

John was looking up at him with a look Sherlock had never seen before, he tried to compare it to the others he had saved in his mind palace but couldn’t find it. He was pulled back out of his thoughts by John wrapping his arms around his waist. A slight tug from the doctor and their bodies were pressed up against each other. Sherlock’s mind raced, John wasn’t yelling, he wasn’t storming out, he was hugging him. He quickly archived all the sensations of his blogger’s body making contact with his. His breathing became rapid as he looked down to see John lick his lips. ‘Am I dreaming?’ he just had time to think before John leaned up onto his toes and tilted his head up towards Sherlock’s. The detective didn’t hesitate, he closed the gap between them placing his lips to John’s, reaching one hand up into his hair and wrapping the other around the doctor’s shoulders. 

Their first kiss was deep and passionate. They moved in perfect harmony, opening to each other and tasting together. Pressing their whole bodies into the kiss. Years of longing, pain of loss, joys of reconnection passed through them within the kiss. Their hearts reached out and touched the other for the first time and it was the greatest feeling the detective had ever known. He would never be the same, his life was forever changed from this kiss. He wanted it to last forever, but John needed air and pulled apart. 

Smiling up at Sherlock, John spoke softly “You idiot, I’ve loved you too.” he removed a hand from the taller man’s waist and wiped the tears from his cheeks. “ It wasn’t Mary I was yelling about, or that I’ve been in torment over. She was more pain then she was worth. The only reason I was with her to begin with was because she was successful at distracting me from the pain of YOUR loss while you were ‘dead’. When you came back I stayed with her because I got caught in the tide, I didn’t want to hurt her or break my promises even though it killed me not to come back and live with you immediately.” 

Sherlock could hardly believe what he was hearing. He squeezed John’s shoulders with his arms to make sure he was real.

“But being back here has proved harder than I anticipated.” John continued “I thought being flatmates and friends would be enough, better than living apart with a true psychopath, but I was wrong. Losing you once made me realize I need you Sherlock Holmes. I need you in my arms and in my bed. I need to be able to kiss you and hold you, to spend rainy Sundays curled up watching crap telly with you. I need to pull you close after a dangerous escape and not let go knowing we are safe. But I thought… I never imagined … ” the doctor’s emotions got the best of him and cut him off. 

“You thought I was incapable of returning your feelings so you’ve been living with the agony of loving someone so deeply you could watch but never have.” Sherlock finished for him.

“Yes, exactly” John sniffed “I’ve never been truly happy with anyone because I’ve been in love with you all along. But I thought you weren't like that. I didn’t think we could be more than friends to you, you’ve always sneered so much at sentiment I thought it was hopeless. So I picked someone I was moderately happy with and well you know the rest. ” he kissed Sherlock again simply because he could. “And for the record, I never said I was straight either genius. I’ve always been bi.” 

The detective smiled widely and squeezed his doctor tight “What a pair we make, both silently killing ourselves needlessly over the same thing.” He bent down and kissed John again, such a wonderful feeling to finally be able to. He thought he would kiss this man every five minutes for the rest of their lives. “Dinner?”

“Starving, but first I need a wash.” He pecked the taller man’s cheek and went off to shower, while Sherlock called Angelo to request his table be ready. Adding before his hung up “Oh and Angelo? This time it is a date.” 

~~

December 23nd, exactly 6 months later, Sherlock woke John up playing the carol of the bells loudly on the living room stereo. After the doctor located his dressing gown and came out of the bedroom he found a full breakfast set up complete with a single rose in a vase. The detective brought two mugs over and kissed his boyfriend “Happy Anniversary John” 

John smiled “Six wonderful months already, here’s to many, many more” clinking their coffee mugs together. “Christmas music Sherlock?” John asked, his detective wasn’t the most festive of people.

“Don’t you remember John? It’s our song.” 

John thought a moment and remembered: it was the song that lead to their first kiss. He smiled pulling the taller man close with his free arm. “You’ve stored everything up tight in your mind palace haven’t you.” 

“Every minute” Sherlock exhaled softly before they kissed and tucked into their breakfast. 

“Mmm this is delicious Sherlock, thank you.” John commented eating the omelet the detective had made. “What are your plans for today?”

“What ever you’re doing.” Sherlock replied simply.

“Wait, what?”

“It’s our anniversary, I just want to spend the day with you. So what do you want to do?”

John thought a moment finishing his hash browns “I have all my gift wrapping to do, let’s throw on a Christmas movie and you can help me?” 

“Urgggokay” Sherlock wanted to be with John but this sounded tediously festive. “But I am picking the movie.” He needed some control over the level of Christmas saturation for the afternoon. 

“Okay Sherlock” John chuckled, clearing their dishes “You go pick something, and I’ll get the wrappings.” 

When he reappeared John found Sherlock had moved their chairs and was sitting cross legged in front of the tv. He had Edward Scissorhands on and was absolutely mesmerized by the film. The doctor had to laugh “Not exactly what I had in mind, what made you pick this movie?” the detective either didn’t hear him or chose not to. He sat down in the floor next to him and rolled out the wrapping paper. He started to measure out enough for his first package when the detective answered him. 

“I connected with this film when I was younger, though I haven’t watched it in years. Edward’s an outcast and even when he is ‘accepted’ by a few people he is still misunderstood. His talents are taken advantage of by people who play upon his social ineptness and he ends up hurting the people he loves. He chooses suffering in solitude vs having the feelings brought out by being around other people.”

John is filled with a tender sadness for his companion while he explains the parallels he sees between this film and his own life. He put his arm around Sherlock’s shoulders. “But you get a happy ending” he says kissing his cheek “Christmas, and life, with someone who knows and loves you exactly the way you are, and would die to protect you from the rest of the world” 

Sherlock turns quickly to face his blogger, wrapping his arms around him, burying his face in his neck. “I love you John.” 

“I love you Bumble” John places a kiss in the messy curls beside his head “Now are you going to help or just zone out to the movie and your old thoughts all morning?”

The detective decides in a second that helping is better then old hurtful thoughts and grabs the other roll of wrapping paper. The pair moves through the small pile of gifts quickly, even though Sherlock made John re-wrap all of his. As usual the genius had an incredible level of OCD regarding the correct way to cover packages in paper. The print of the paper had to be lined up perfectly on top and the edges had to be folded so they were completely symmetrical. Then the boxes had to be stacked below the tree from tallest to smallest in an impeccable cascade. When everything was all wrapped up they ordered some take away for lunch and went for a walk together to go and pick it up. 

It was unseasonably warm for December so they took their time, grateful not to be snowed in. As they walked John thought of the dog at Molly’s and how soon they would be walking their new pet with them. He wondered if they would bring him on cases, he felt sure Sherlock would train him as a super sniffer dog to assist them. He couldn’t wait to reveal his gift to the other man, and Molly he knew couldn’t wait to have her flat back. ‘It would be even more perfect today’ John thought, and made up his mind. “Hey love want to eat in the park? It seems a waste to spend such a nice day in the flat, and you can deduce the other park goers for me as we eat.” He knew Sherlock loved to do that as much as John loved hearing it. 

“Yes John, we can do whatever you’d like on our anniversary remember?” the genius replied automatically not looking up from his phone. Anniversary was not a day off apparently and he was busy searching the web for something Lestrade had asked his opinion on. 

“Great, I’m going to hit the loo first while we’re in here though, you’ll get the food?” Sherlock grunted in response and moved into the queue, while John headed off out of sight pulling his phone out. He texted Molly, who was thankfully off today and home and more than willing to bring the pup down to the park to meet them. 

“An online company was selling counterfeit badges allowing the criminals to disguise themselves as security guards and gain access to the staterooms and the actor. I’ve narrowed it down to two possible locations and Lestrade is sending his top men so intercept them. However I highly doubt they will be successful as they are all morons.” Sherlock said when John had rejoined him. 

“Oh, so are we off to tend to it ourselves then?” John worried now that he had sent things into motion for his surprise. It figured something like this would happen.

“No, we are going to have lunch in the park. If Lestrade is unable to catch them today we can pick up the trail and find them tomorrow.”

Relieved, John pointed out “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, we have to be at dinner at your brother’s, you’re not using a case to get out of that.” 

Sherlock huffed as his face contorted into his I’ve been uncovered look. “Fine John” and he took out his phone to text Lestrade the actual whereabouts of the three men so he could get them without incident.

The midday sun was warm as they sat at a table in the park. There were many people out enjoying the springish weather and Sherlock rattled off tidbits about all of them as they ate. Just as they were packing up the leftovers to bring back to the flat the detective said “So that’s why we haven’t seen Molly in several days, she’s gone and gotten herself more work than she is equipt to handle.” 

John turned to see Molly being dragged down the path by the very over excited puppy. She was running to keep up with the ball of fluff, ponytail swinging madly, red blotches on her cheeks. His anxiety snapped into high gear with anticipation. He was suddenly worried for the first time Sherlock wouldn’t want the dog. “Well she isn’t exactly an animal person Sherlock. She couldn’t even keep fish remember? It must have gotten away from its owner’s and been running around the park or something.” 

Sherlock squinted at John, that seemed a bit far-fetched for Molly to catch a stray dog and be wandering around searching for its owner. He did remember how she spent too many long hours at the morgue and came home too exhausted to remember to feed the fish she had eventually donated to the hospital’s children's wing. A dog was 86% more work than fish. It didn’t make any sense, if she couldn’t find its owner the odds were 32 to 1 she would be able to take care of it correctly until a suitable home was found. Sherlock stood and followed John over to meet her. 

“Hello then” Molly panted, she looked rather uncomfortable, well more so than usual in Sherlock’s presence, as if she wasn’t sure what to say. She looked questioningly at John who smiled and took the leash from her, bending down to pick up the pup. “He’s so cute, don’t you think Sherlock?” John asked. 

Australian Shepherds are among my favorite breeds” the detective responded reaching over to pet the puppy’s head. “where did he come from?”

Molly hesitated, in the rush across the park she had forgotten their carefully worked out cover, so John spoke “You must have found him wandering the park?”

She found her voice and her breath at last “Yea, yes. He was just across the park there and came up to me as I was reading. I couldn’t see it’s owners anywhere so I thought I’d take it round to see if anyone recognized it.”

“Honestly you couldn’t be more oblivious, this dog has a collar and a tag.” Sherlock snapped reaching under the animal’s neck to read the writing on the metal disk. It said: If lost contact Sherlock Holmes, 221b Baker Street and listed his phone number. Still holding the tag he slowly looked curiously up at the man holding the dog “John?”

John wore a huge smile at sucessfully surprising his detective “Happy Christmas Sherlock.”

Sherlock stood absolutely still and unreactive for several moments processing the fact that John had so expertly surprised him, and that he now had a puppy. When at last it had sunk in he reached for the young dog. “I er…” a small tongue licking his face cut him off and made him smile “I don’t know what to say John.”

“Well that’s a first!” Molly chimed in “Well enjoy guys, I have a flat to go de-dog. Happy Christmas!” and she was off. 

John looked at his boyfriend holding the puppy, he wasn’t getting the reaction he was expecting. Though come to think of it he never really knew what to expect from the man he loved. He watched the dog lick the detective’s face over and over, at least the pup liked Sherlock. 

Suddenly Sherlock put the dog down and brushed the fur off his coat before wiping his face. John just had time to wonder if he was about to tell John he didn’t think they had time for a dog before the detective spoke; not to John but the pup. 

“Now Toby you will not be pulling at your leash that way.” The dog seemed to understand him and sat looking up at his new master attentively “Good boy” and Sherlock bet to bet the pup again. Toby looked at John then back at Sherlock before yawning and laying down at the detective’s feet. 

“Toby?” John asked, pleased as punch it seemed they were keeping the dog.

“Yes, it suits him. I didn’t have any idea John, how did you pull this off?”

“Mycroft helped.” 

Involuntarily the taller man’s arms tensed at mention of his brother, but he quickly relaxed realizing he had helped John plan this. “Thank you John, he’s wonderful.” He kissed the shorter man and hooked their arms together to start walking back to their flat, correcting Toby as they went to keep him in line with them. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything as wonderful for you.” he added. 

“Well he is sort of for both of us isn’t he?” John answered squeezing Sherlock’s arm with both his hands “Besides Bumble, all I need for Christmas is exactly what I already have…” leaning up to kiss a beautiful cheekbone he added “you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to darcylindbergh for her permission to use her adorable "bumble" pet name that is just about perfect for John to call his Sherlock.


	12. Days 24+25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big question !

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for it taking so long to finish this up. Life got crazy as it does. But I couldn't leave my sweet Queen Bee and his Silver fox hanging so finally the conclusion ! Enjoy :)

It was a Christmas Miracle. Sherlock had gotten ready, almost on time and left their flat without protest. Granted it took him far longer than necessary to say goodbye to Toby and get him tucked into his crate, but John found it so adorable he allowed the detective this extra time without harassment. 

Once in the town car Sherlock started to fret “ We cannot leave Toby for more than 4 hours”

“Mrs. Hudson agreed to bring him out for us.”

“She’s our landlady, not a dog walker”

“She offered Sherlock! and since when are you inclined to back off of demanding things of her?”

“Toby is at a critical point in his training and bonding, it should be me who takes him out.”

“Mrs. Hudson needs to bond with him too, I daresay there will be plenty of times in the future we won’t make it to the flat in time to take him out.” 

“But if he tugs and she doesn’t correct him properly... are you sure you gave her the list of command words to use to avoid confusing him ?” 

“Yes” John said in an exasperated sigh “I gave her your extensive list of instructions for a fifteen minute walk.” John was not surprised with the extent of Sherlock obsessing over the dog’s training. Toby was likely to become the most obedient and efficient sniffer dog in the country. The detective had stayed up all night drawing up this training plans, walking schedules and started concocting the first batch of scents the dog was going to learn. 

“He really needs me John, honestly if she fails to recognize a behavior…” 

John interrupted his retort “That’s enough Sherlock.I can see right through this. You are simply trying to come up with reasons to leave your brother’s house as soon as possible. Toby is fine, he will be fine.” 

Slumping back into his seat Sherlock crossed his arms and went into full pout. “I still don’t understand why we are doing this.”

“Because it’s Christmas and that means family.” John said for what felt like the hundredth time “You should be happy you have a sibling to spend it with.” he added in a reserved tone thinking of how he hadn’t even gotten a Christmas card from Harry this year. 

The despair in John’s voice brought the detective out of his self absorbed pout. He put an arm around his blogger nuzzling the sandy hair. This is why he was doing this he reminded himself, because John needed it. 

The rest of the car ride passed in silence as they both wrestled with inner thoughts. John trying to push back the wave of negativity that thoughts of his family had brought on, and Sherlock trying to get his disdain for his brother under control to be able to give John a pleasant evening. 

Lestrade greeted them warmly as they moved into the foyer, not hesitating to pull them both into a hug “Sherlock! John! Happy Christmas! I didn’t expect you for at least another hour.” 

“I told you they would arrive only 45 minutes late Gregory, did I not?” Mycroft put out his hand in greeting as he joined them “John.” 

John shook it warmly “I was surprised myself we left the flat as easily as we did.” he nudged Sherlock’s arm lovingly as he said it. 

Ignoring John’s jibe Sherlock sneered “Mycroft” shaking his siblings hand in turn.

“Brother dear, how are you? Enjoying the responsibility of dog ownership?” Mycroft had an art to making an endearing statement sound distasteful.

“Er… I … well yes. Toby is wonderful.” His emotions surrounding his Christmas gift caught him off guard. He loved the animal so much already. Possibly because John had given him to him. They started to make their way through the massive house towards the sitting room. 

“I keep saying we need a pet around here, this big house is so empty, I’d love a dog.” Greg had a reminiscent expression “I grew up with dogs, my Mum loved them. There were more dogs than people in our house.”

Mycroft shuddered visibly “Out of the question, more dogs than people, the very idea.” He opened the liquor cabinet and set at making them all a drink. “Besides we have pets already.”

“Goldfish do not count Myc” Greg said on his way into the kitchen to check on dinner “100 gallon tank or not.” 

“What where is this tank ?! 100 gallons you’ve got to be kidding.” John was shocked he could have missed such a huge thing on his last visit to this house, though granted he hadn’t been in all the rooms. 

“It’s in the library, want to see it ?” Greg loved showing off the tank, it had been one of the first things they bought together for the house. 

“Heck yeah!” John followed Greg out into the hall leaving the Holmes brothers alone in the sitting room. Not looking at each other Sherlock settled himself on the sofa and Mycroft in his wingback arm chair. The ice shifting as it melted in their glasses cut through the silence. After a while it became clear John had weaseled a full tour out of Greg, so the elder Holmes decided to try and be conversational. He did want to fix this, whatever it is, between them afterall. 

“Do you intend to train this dog, unlike Redbeard?” Damn. It was so hard not to insult with every statement, how had they gotten like this ?

“Yes of course. I was a child then Mycroft. You could have helped out more as the older brother with Redbeard, I seem to recall you telling mother you would when I brought him home.”

“Yes I did. And you’re right I should have, but I was far too busy…”

“with your studies, yes I remember.” Sherlock finished the sentence for him dismissively waving his hand “you never did anything else.” 

“That is not true, we spent time together. You are just choosing to focus on the negative memories because it suits your hatred of me better.” Mycroft was getting annoyed, he found not knowing how to do something to be the single most irritating thing in existence and he had absolutely no idea how to bridge this gap with his sibling. 

“Mmm yeah, must have deleted it.” Sherlock said. 

The words were like a wave of clarification to Mycroft, he knew Sherlock was not lying. It was the answer to all of his questions. Not for the first time Mycroft imagined his brother high off his mind in a drug den, depressed over him having left to university and deleting all of the good times to make their separation more tolerable. He never fully appreciated how difficult his leaving was on his little sibling, and therefore the root of his drug abuse until this moment. Their reconciliation was going to be harder than anticipated with a mind palace full of every negative moment from their lives. 

“Sherlock I …” He started then finished his drink before continuing “What are your Christmas memories of our childhood?” 

The consulting detective snapped his head around to stare in disbelief at Mycroft’s question “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Why are you asking me that?” 

“It is Christmas, you brought up having deleted memories and Gregory has my thoughts revolving around family recently. I am merely curious Sherlock. Contrary to your beliefs I am not always attacking you with every word I say.” 

There was that word again, family. Which means John. Erg but also Mycroft. Sherlock heard John’s voice in his head ‘Well he is your family’. It was true. Sometimes it was exhausting always being at odds with his brother, he couldn't deny that. John wanted this family holiday, he supposed he could ease up just this once. For John. Certainly not because of that small voice in the back of his mind palace that would call out for Mycroft in the middle of the night. No. Not that. For John. 

Sherlock also finished his drink and went over to the decanter for a refill, grabbing Mycroft’s glass on his way. “I remember you telling me St. Nicholas wasn’t real. You never coming out to play in the snow with me because of your work. Telling me I was too uncoordinated to ride my new bike and that my arms were too small to play my violin.” he handed his brother the glass with as apologetic a look as he could muster. He was aware of the fact that things must be missing. 

“Come with me.” Mycroft got up and headed into his study. Putting his drink down on his desk he opened the glass cabinet and took out the model pirate ship handing it to Sherlock. 

Sherlock eyed the ship curiously as he turned it around in his hands. It felt familiar, something about this particular item, not just the fact that he did still remember his love for all things pirate. He hadn’t deleted everything. He looked up at Mycroft waiting for the explanation.

“You gave me this Sherlock. For Christmas, when you were 5 years old. Well the kit, we built it together.” He took it back and looked over it fondly. “You don’t remember at all do you?” he added softly.

Sherlock shook his head, scrunching his brow as he closed his eyes trying to force his mind to find the ship. “We built it in Dad’s workshop” he started slowly as if the memories were in another language and slowly being decoded “I knocked over the glue and several pieces got stuck to the table. Dad was furious, he had to strip and refinish it.”

Mycroft shook his head, so many bad memories. “Yes, See? This side of the rigging is incomplete since we were unable to use those pieces.” 

Sherlock nodded. This was sort of surreal. He had meant it as a joke, a cruel jab, when he said he must have deleted the good side of his childhood. And yet here he was being presented with physical evidence that he had in fact done just that. Was there more? Was nothing about his past accurate accounts of what actually happened? His mind began to race through his old archives for data. 

They heard John and Greg walk past and turn back when they noticed the light on in the study. 

“Hey love” Greg placed a quick kiss on Mycroft’s cheek as if he had missed him in the 20 minutes they had been apart. John’s eyes were on Sherlock and the curious expression on his face. His detective seemed so unguarded and relaxed. A state he was not unfamiliar with when they were at home alone together, but never had he seen in Mycroft’s presence. “What’s with the boat?” he looked from Sherlock to Mycroft. They were staring at each other in a very curious fashion. What had happened while he was being shown around the house? 

“It was my Christmas gift to my brother when I was 5 years old. We built it together. It seems I had… forgotten.” Sherlock turned, walked out of the room and disappeared into the house. 

Mycroft returned the ship to it's case then turned to wrap an arm around Greg as the trio returned to the sitting room. “I have discovered that my brother has deleted much of our childhood. It seems as though he has only retained the negative memories he needed to support his hatred of me that developed when I left for university; leaving him alone and feeling abandoned in our family home and a town that hated him.” Mycroft revealed, more to Greg than John. If he felt any discomfort regarding this statement he didn’t show it. The government official was as composed as ever. 

“Well than your gift to him will be all the more perfect won’t it.” Greg said taking a seat beside the fire opposite Mycroft and putting his feet up onto his boyfriend’s knees. He stared at him in the firelight, trying to read his face. He loved this man so much, loved that he alone in all the world knew of the great heart that beat beneath this icy exterior. He remembered with a jolt of nerves he soon would be asking Mycroft to marry him. He downed his drink at the thought and went for a refill. 

The inspector knew the look on his lovers face when he returned with his drink so he sat down on the sofa to leave Mycroft to his thoughts. Greg and John swapped childhood Christmas stories as they waited for Sherlock to return from wherever he had stalked off to. As John finished a tale about his first video game console, Mycroft excused himself to go search the rooms for Sherlock, taking his brother’s Christmas gift with him. He had the sudden realization it would best be given in private, as it was John’s appearance in his office at the moment of vulnerability that no doubt sent Sherlock off into hiding. 

Mycroft found the detective in his bedroom, sitting on his and Greg’s bed holding a picture frame. “I found this on your bedside table” He uttered as explanation when Mycroft entered the room and sat down beside him. “In fact you have photographs of us all over the house. Some I can remember, most I cannot.” 

“And this one?” Mycroft asked taking the silver frame from him and staring down at the 6 year old Sherlock and dog in eyepatches. 

“No.” Sherlock took it back “I mean I remember Redbeard obviously, and having the pirate costumes. But I have no memories that would give me an explanation as to why on earth you would have this photograph here in your bedroom.”

“I realize this is difficult for you Sherlock. You have been angry with me for such a long time, and my defensiveness to your hatred has not helped matters. I do not expect us to ever be deserving of some siblings of the year awards, but I would like to help you remember the good times in the hope that we may find some level of harmony between us.” he handed Sherlock the gold wrapped box he had brought with him. 

Sherlock returned the frame to its spot besides the alarm clock and took the box. He unwrapped it and removed the collection of short stories Mycroft had written. “What is this Mycroft?”

“When I was 15 we were given an assignment in school to write short stories. I admit I do not have a creative bone in my body and was quite anxious at the task. 5 days passed and still I had nothing to write about. The assignments due date was creeping closer and I was sitting at my desk staring out the window willing some sort of orginal idea to come to me when you and Redbeard ran through the yard in your costumes screaming about Blackbeard. I had found my idea. I took many of my memories of our childhood and turned them into pirate stories, us into pirates. My teacher loved it and wanted to submit it to the town newspaper, but I wouldn’t have it.”

Sherlock opened to the first page and skimmed down it quickly. The story opened by introducing Captain Mike and his first mate William, and their need to rebuild their ship after a recent firefight. The detective looked up at Mycroft “So there’s some truth within these stories, it starts with us building the pirate ship.”

Mycroft nodded.

“I will read them.” 

“I doubt very much that you will take me up on this offer, but if you want me to fill in any gaps at any time I will.” Mycroft was amazed with the last hour, he hadn’t seen this side of his brother in years. 

“MYC! DINNER IS DONE, HAVE YOU FOUND SHERLOCK?” Greg called up from the first floor.

The Holmes brothers rolled their eyes in unison. “Honestly what on earth are you thinking with Lestrade? He can’t find the right way out of a paper bag.” 

“Sentiment surprises us all brother mine. Dr. Watson would fail to recognize a suspect if they walked right up to him and confessed.” Mycroft retorted. 

They rejoined John and Greg and tucked into their Christmas meal. The conversation flowed easily. They talked of cases, the food and plans for Toby. Mycroft and Sherlock resumed their usual jibes at each other, poking holes in each other’s logic and endlessly trying to get the upper hand; but it felt differently somehow. Almost in a teasing, affectionate sort of way. Mycroft was pleased with himself for creating a shift in their relationship, however small. Although he did suspect that is was more John Watson’s influence over his brother that provided the opportunity for this to happen in the first place. 

They finished their meal (Oh my goodness Greg this is delicious! John had exclaimed at first bite) and dessert (How much cake are you going to eat Mycroft? Sherlock had jabbed) exchanged a few gifts (An umbrella stand, how quante. Mycroft had scoffed) then it was time for John and Sherlock to get home to Toby. They made their goodbyes and got into the town car that would bring them back to Baker street. 

 

***

Mycroft and Greg sat on their sofa together sipping their drinks and watching the fire after John and Sherlock had left. Both surprisingly pleased with the way the night had turned out. It had been a very good evening, but now that it was over there was nothing left to distract the inspector. His nerves jumped into full swing. He couldn’t wait until breakfast.

“Let's go for a walk” he said, not turning his gaze from the fire in fear his anxiety would be read in his eyes. 

“Gregory it’s midnight.”

“So?” 

“It's snowing.”

“It's Christmas.” 

Mycroft eyed him suspiciously “Not trying to start a new tradition are you Gregory?”

The inspector just shrugged, unable to keep the sly smile off his face. He stood quickly to try and hide it, unsuccessfully. 

Arching his eyebrows Mycroft was suddenly full of curiosity, a feeling unique to being around Gregory Lestrade. “All right.” 

The pair found their shoes and jackets. While Mycroft took the time to carefully fasten all of his buttons up in anticipation of the cold, Greg he noticed hastily threw his coat over his body, not closing it or bothering to grab his scarf. 

Surprised eyebrows popped up on the taller man's face one again. Something was definitely going on.   
Once outside Mycroft opened his umbrella to shield them from the falling snow. Gregory shifted close wrapping an arm around Mycroft’s waist and they started off down the sidewalk in a perfectly synchronized stride. The weight of the small box in his coat pocket was incredible, he was sure his brilliant companion would notice the sag of that side of his jacket. He couldn’t realize it was all in his head, that the jacket was not shifting under the slight weight of a tiny box. 

“I have not done this since I was a teenager.” Mycroft confessed. 

“What? Walked in the snow?” 

“Walked in the middle of the night.” Mycroft corrected “ I would frequently take an evening walk to clear my head and organize my thoughts in the early days of constructing my mind palace, to use Sherlock’s term.”

“Why do you always say it that way?”

“What?”

“To use Sherlock’s term, what do you call it?” 

Mycroft considered the question as they turned a corner, heading for the nearby small park. “ I never really gave it such a title. My brother does love to be dramatic, I did not feel the need for such a grand label. If the need to express my mental processes to another ever arose I would simply state that I needed to do some filing.”

The inspector laughed and squeezed his boyfriend’s waist “Filing, of course, that does suit you. So why the change?”

Mycroft sighed, a sound full of hesitation before he spoke “Familial sentiment I’m afraid.” 

Greg thought his tone sounded embarrassed, an emotion he had hardly known the confident man at his side to express. “Wait, as in since Sherlock calls it that you want to call it that because he’s your brother and you care about him?”

Another sigh, it seemed Mycroft wasn’t keen on revealing this side of himself. “Yes, partially. I find myself full of pride when my brother displays the abilities it took him a long time to find. It makes me happy to know he has finally mastered the necessary techniques to keep a mind like ours from going insane. I use his flamboyant term to acknowledge the similarities between us and declare us connected in this small way. We do not have much of a sibling bond, there is little we have in common besides how our minds work. Since I am unable to go through life with any other expression of the fact that I have a brother at all I choose to unite us in the use of his branding of our memory technique.”

Greg took a few moments to process all that Mycroft had just said. He squeezed his waist “Tonight may have gone a long way to fixing that. You finally got through to him I think.”

“I wouldn’t say a long way, but I do agree something has shifted in our relationship. However slightly.”

“One step at a time Myc.” Greg planted a light kiss on his cheek. 

They continued in a reserved quiet, walking through the darkened park listening to the sound of the lightly falling snow. Mycroft pushed aside thoughts of Sherlock to study his companion. He observed Greg’s quickened breathing as they walked, he had started rubbing his neck and huffing out his breathing frequently. He was anxious about something and trying to calm himself. Mycroft inconspicuously took Greg’s pulse as the shorter man pulled him towards the duck pond. Elevated almost to the point of peak arousal. What was he so worked up about? When their fingers interlaced Mycroft noted Greg’s palms were sweating. Actually sweating, outside in the snow, without gloves on. ‘OH GOD’ a realization snapped into the front of Mycroft’s mind, and his own heart rate started to catch up to Greg’s. 

Greg guided them across to the middle of the footbridge that crossed the pond. The snowing had stopped and the clouds were parting to expose a brilliantly full moon that cast the pair of men in moonlight. Greg stopped and turned to Mycroft holding both of the taller man’s hands as he gazed lovingly up at him. He took several deep, shaky breaths trying to steady himself. He did not want his voice to crack. 

Mycroft’s own palms began to sweat inside his gloves. He took them off and put them in his pocket as his mind raced to review this incoming data again and again. He was full of disbelief. Surely he had miscalculated, this couldn’t be happening. Not to him. Not by Gregory Lestrade, the most incredible, handsome, caring man he has ever know. No. He must be wrong. But Mycroft Holmes is never wrong. He was trembling as Gregory took his hands in his. His mouth went dry as he looked down into his lover’s eyes and saw the tears building there. He swallowed and just as Greg opened his mouth to speak he spoke first. 

“Yes.” 

Caught off guard for only a second Gregory smiled “I haven’t asked you anything yet you sod.” 

“Maybe not verbally.” Mycroft said pulling his inspector in close “But you did ask me.”

Greg stumbled with his thoughts, putting a hand in his pocket to open the small box. What did he do now? His plan had been thrown off. He pulled the ring into his palm and closed his fist around it. “Figures. There’s no surprising a Holmes I suppose.” He pulled his fist with the ring inside it out of his pocket. 

“On the contrary, I am completely surprised. Just because I was able to read your question moments before you needed to express it out loud does not mean that your request has not taken my breath away and left me completely bewildered.” 

Greg smiled back a tear threatening to break free “I want to do this properly you great git.” 

“Sod? Git? Very romantic Gregory.”

Greg rushed forward and kissed him deeply, then pulled back and rested their foreheads together locking their eyes “Marry me Mycroft Holmes?”

“Of course I will Gregory.” They pulled apart so Greg could slide the titanium and onyx ring onto Mycroft’s finger, and the taller man held it up to examine it in the mood light. “Exquisite choice love” he said kissing his new fiance for the first time. The kiss was a passionate expression of their change in commitment to each other, deep and full of the promise of their future. However it was also brief as Greg started to shiver uncontrollably. Mycroft began rubbing Greg’s arms to try and warm him “May we return to the house now? I do believe you’re starting to show signs of hypothermia.”

Greg shuddered as the cold did in fact suddenly become noticeable. He zipped up his jacket and pulled his collar up around his neck as much as possible. “Yeah, let’s head back.” They intertwined their fingers and Greg felt the cold metal around his lover’s finger as they walked. He had done it, and Mycroft had accepted. He had a fiance, and soon would have a husband. It was the very best Christmas he had ever had.


End file.
